An Unproductive Start?

Or: On the Power of Thinking

A funny thing happened the other day. Aaron had been away on a trip. Ordinarily when he travels I go full beast mode: I clean like a maniac, complete tasks that have been sitting on lists, buzz my way through our silent house, thriving on the space. Given the timing, I figured I’d mow down my to-do’s, New Year’s resolution-style, and come out victorious, potentially riding a horse, wearing some sort of medal for valor.

Not so much. When all was said and done, I felt like I did nothing…except watch Heated Rivalry (um, I have so much to say about this show). When Aaron got home, I told him how unproductive I’d been…and, when he prodded, I proceeded to spend an hour telling him all of the things I’d done: I read a book, took a gorgeous hike, saw friends, and, most importantly, spent a lot of time thinking.

I’m trying to go into this year as considerately as possible, meaning: I want to be mindful of how I spend my time and energy, how I engage with people and the world around me. I want to step into this next chapter in alignment, and open up opportunities for my creative self to thrive. I want to interact with less judgment and resistance, and, when I face either (because I will), push on the bruise and challenge myself to work through my reactions. When I finished explaining what I’d done during my three days of freedom, Aaron said, ‘Why did you say you were unproductive? You actually did a lot.’

I’m telling you this because I was struck that there was such an intense disconnect between my assessment/judgment of my time alone and the reality of the situation, and I have a feeling many of you experience this, too.

Whether it’s because we’re being bombarded with everyone’s plans for January resets (or, let’s be honest, people’s year-round optimization schemes), or because I’m in a season of life that allows more spaciousness I feel I should fill by bettering myself, I often forget that thinking deeply is time well spent. I’m the type of person who contemplates – for months, sometimes – and then comes out the other side ready to jump (in my friend Allie’s words, I’m a ‘slow processor’). Spending time thinking can actually happen without me even realizing it. I’ll begin an ascent up a mountain and, halfway up, realize I’m working through an issue, or contemplating how to nudge myself into a new creative project, or reflecting on an interaction with a friend or family member. Cooking, too, is an excellent time to process; you can chop an onion and confront your demons simultaneously!

I guess my point is that we’re hard on ourselves – much of the time, but especially during January, a month when we convince ourselves we can (and should) change, effervesce until we’re free of what’s holding us down physically and psychically. We write resolutions and donate our clothes and start meditating. We wear our red light masks nightly and pledge to eat more fiber. My hope is that – if you are going into 2026 hard, with milestones in mind – you don’t discount the moments you spend not actively working towards goals, and tune into those times when your mind is doing its thing. You can’t force it – you don’t write ‘Think’ on a to-do list. Thoughts come when they have space to breathe. And, on days you’re feeling blue, or like you just can’t possibly be the productive person you promised yourself you would be, you can turn on HBO and watch two (well, four) guys fall in love.

Thinking deeply

Read

Death and the Gardener by Georgi Gospodinov, translated from the Bulgarian by Angela Rodel
Buy: Bookshop.org or your local bookstore or library

"My father was a gardener. Now he is a garden." I read this opening line while standing in a bookstore and was floored, almost unable to move. If the rest of the book was half as poetic, I knew I was in for a profound reading experience. Spoiler: It was.

Though Death and the Gardener is technically a novel, it centers around a character named Georgi who’s mourning the recent passing of his father by writing a book. It’s a grief memoir — one of the best I’ve read — but non-linear, playful. Despite the dark subject matter, this book contains great levity, thanks both to Gospodinov’s (and his father’s) ability to laugh.

We open with the fact of Georgi’s father’s death, then are taken back through vignettes of his life: his youth in Communist-era Bulgaria, his work travails, his good humor and attitude throughout his cancer diagnosis, and his pride and joy — the garden that saved his life when he was first diagnosed with a different type of cancer, 17 years ago, and the one he tends until his death.

Metaphors abound when we talk about death and gardens, and risk verging on trite, but Gospodinov’s prose is brutal and heady: “He would speak through [the garden], and his words were apples, cherries, big red tomatoes.” You can almost feel his grief seeping off the pages. At times his reactions to the imminence of his father’s death are innocent, naive; it’s easy to forget that even a grown man will always be someone’s child.

Mourning takes different shapes for everyone, and Gospodinov writes about the pit of grief that can hit at random: the realization that he’s taking his first flight without being able to tell his father he landed, or a rose arching out of the garden, unwieldy and new, thanks to the care of a man who is no longer breathing. These micro-experiences show the echoes of death up close, those tiny moments that can bring you to your knees.

This is up there with The Year of Magical Thinking when it comes to books about loss. I’m so glad I discovered it and can’t wait to read more of what Gospodinov has written.

Eat

I made this salad the other night when we had dinner with friends and it was a hit! I forgot to take a photo (the sign of a good meal) so you’ll just have to use your imaginations.

A Very Good Winter Salad
Serves 4

1 handful arugula
3 heads chicories (I used escarole, radicchio and castelfranco)
Various herbs (I used dill, chives and cilantro)
1 apple, sliced thinly
2 large scallions, sliced thinly on the bias
1 handful pomegranate seeds
2 stalks celery, sliced thinly on the bias
Vinaigrette (recipe below)

Vinaigrette
Makes enough for 2 salads; keep it in the fridge for up to a week

Scant 1/2 cup evoo
Juice of 3 lemons
3 cloves smashed garlic
2 anchovies
1 tablespoon Dijon or grainy mustard
1/4 cup grated Parmesan
Kosher salt
Lots of pepper
Maldon, to serve

Toss all of the salad ingredients into a large bowl. To make the vinaigrette, put everything into the bowl of a small food processor and blitz until emulsified and creamy, about 1 minute. Taste and season with Kosher salt/pepper as desired (I like this vinaigrette/salad verrrry peppery)f. Dress the salad with your hands (always hands!) until everything is lightly cloaked in creamy goodness. Season with Maldon.